It’s been a long time since I don’t write a rant here, so it was about time.
I recently read a post that inspired me a lot to try and do things even if I think I’ll do them wrong, which is called “Be creative”, written by a fabulous girl (you can read it here).
It basically talks about how we prevent ourselves from doing things because we don’t think we “fit” the label or subject – in this case, being creative – and it made me think about my own creativity and how I let it define me.
I’ve always been a creative girl, since I was a child I remember drawing whenever I could, singing with my mum, dancing when no one was around… I even wanted to be an artist for several years. But the thing is that I’ve always been defined as “creative” because I was surrounded by less creative people, or people that weren’t creative at all.
Then, I went to uni, and it all changed. I met a lot of different and interesting people who were very talented, and instead of letting that inspire me, it made me scared. It made me scared because I thought that, compared to them, I wasn’t creative at all. It made be belive I didn’t deserve to think I was creative, because I would never reach their level of talent. I started thinking I was not good enough for that creative world. And in the end, I even thought I wasn’t creative. I thought I was just ordinary, that I had the standard “amount of creativity” for someone that’ll never be related to that world.
Then, all that passed. I started talking with different people and I became interested in other subjects, like going to art galleries and I started reading manga again and I let myself get lost in music for a while. I read a lot, published books, amateur unpublished short stories… I saw a lot of fan-art. I kind of reconnected with the world I loved so much, with the world I had discovered alone. I decided I wanted to try again. I wanted to draw something, I wanted to just be creative for a couple minutes. But my mind wasn’t oblivious of everything I had “learned”. It was still there, haunting me, holding me down. I drew. Yes, I did. It didn’t feel right, though. I thought that, no matter how hard I tried, I would never create something as beautiful as what I saw on tumblr. I would never be like my classmates. I would always be in the background, waiting for my time to shine until is too late.
So I accepted it. I accepted I wasn’t as good as I wanted to be. I accepted I was even bad sometimes. So what? If I was bad, then I couldn’t disappoint myself. Later, I reminded myself I was me. I am only me, and that is the only thing I’m going to be for all my life. I told myself it was okay, whatever I did, it would be okay. And after that, I began drawing things that were even better than just “okay”.
Only when I started letting myself be bad, I began being good.
I was scared of perfection. I was so obsessed with achieving it, that I couldn’t even move towards it. I wanted it so badly, and at the same time, I was scared. I was terrified of getting there. Because I was an ordinary girl, a no one. What would I do if I reached perfection? I wouldn’t know how to handle it.
Truth is, there’s no reason to handle perfection, because perfection is impossible to reach.
So be free. Be you. Do what you have to do, do what you want to do, no matter what. And be happy with it.